


Little Love

by grandsequel (Yunho)



Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 10,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunho/pseuds/grandsequel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of my 2min drabbles. There are more than 100 so putting them up will take a bit of time, thank you for your patience!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 未来 (future)

Minho kisses him for the first time when they’re sitting on the top of his car’s trunk. His hand slowly creeps across the car and gently brushes Taemin’s knuckles with the soft pads of his fingertips. When Taemin looks up, startled, and meets his eyes, there’s a look of affection in the pools of brown that has Taemin swallowing thickly.   
  
He whispers Minho’s name and even though it’s not really consent, Minho takes it as such. His face looms close and Taemin has only a second to comprehend what’s about to happen before he feels the soft touch of Minho’s lips on his own.   
  
Gentle and sweet, they hold their mouths together for a few seconds before Taemin pulls back with a gasp.   
  
“Is this alright?” Minho asks, sounding worried. Taemin bites his bottom lip and looks away a second before nodding.   
  
This time, when Minho goes in for a second kiss, Taemin meets him halfway. He opens his mouth slowly, hesitantly, and lets his tongue tentatively move against Minho’s. Minho’s mouth is warm with the faint hint of coffee still lingering. When they try to move closer, Taemin can’t seem to get comfortable because of the awkward positioning.   
  
He goes to protest as Minho pulls back and slides off the car but the sound is swallowed up in a moan when Minho positions himself in front of him. Taemin is forced to lean forward and down, his lips covering Minho’s as his arms wind themselves around his shoulders. His legs open and allow Minho to lean into him. Hands find his hips and smooth across his back and all the while they’re still kissing, every kiss growing in intensity.   
  
Taemin suddenly pulls away with an embarrassed moan, burying his face into Minho’s neck as his hands slide beneath the edge of Taemin’s pants. His fingers lightly skim down until they graze each side of Taemin’s bottom and squeeze the smooth, milky flesh.   
  
“Too much—” he says sharply and that’s when Minho finally stops, settling on kissing Taemin’s neck gently.


	2. 놀이 (I'll Win)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even on Minho's day off, there's no peace to be found. Note: 놀이 means 'game/play'

“Taeminnie,  _stop_ ,” Minho ground out, trying to sound firm. He held the game controller higher in the air, pushing Taemin’s face away as the younger boy continually attempted to rub his face in Minho’s stomach. His tiny fingers were blindly trying to grab the controller. And Minho? Minho was losing the game. Horribly.   
  
“Hyung!” Taemin whined. “Come on, you’re supposed to be playing with  _me_ . It’s just a stupid game anyway!” Taemin buried his face in Minho’s stomach, blowing a raspberry into it and laughing hysterically when Minho hissed and nearly slid off the couch in his effort to get away.   
  
“What are you, five? I’m busy Min, go study or something.”   
  
“Minho!” Taemin shouted. Minho rolled his eyes and tried to slide his way out from beneath Taemin. Only his head was resting on Minho’s lap but either Taemin’s head weighed a ton or he was purposely trying to make Minho uncomfortable by pressing his head harder into Minho’s thighs.    
  
Minho sighed heavily dropped the controller on the sofa arm, not bothering to pause the game as he watched his character die and the screen blinked cruelly with  _Game Over_ . It may as well have said  _You’re a loser_ .   
  
With a huff, he crossed his arms over his chest and jostled his legs, trying to knock Taemin away. “Happy now? I lost.”   
  
“Mhm. I’m very happy now hyung.” Taemin was grinning. Little minx.   
  
Minho stared down at him, eyes narrowed, but Taemin simply stared back, his smug grin still plastered on his face. Slowly, he sat up and scooted backward until he was sitting sideways on Minho’s lap. “ _Minho_ ,” he whined again. “Come on, don’t be like that.” He slide his arms around Minho’s shoulders and rested his head against Minho’s chest. “I just wanted you to pay attention to me.”   
  
“Taemin. Love of my life, sweet, sweet, dear little Taemin. I pay more attention to you than I do anyone else in the entire world. All I ask for is one day, scratch that, one  _hour_  to myself to play some video games and you can’t give me that?”   
  
Taemin sighed guiltily. He released Minho’s neck and swung his legs over, standing. He didn’t manage to move away though before Minho grabbed his wrist and tugged him back.   
  
“Well, I already lost, didn’t I?” Taemin shrugged, staring down at the older boy. “So what. Clearly you don’t want to spend time with me.”   
  
“Don’t be so immature Taemin. Now come here,” Minho admonished and tugged him back down. Minho leaned back on the sofa and let Taemin straddle him, sitting up slightly on his knees. “There. Now you have my full, undivided attention.”   
  
“Good.”   
  
“And? What now?”   
  
“Well…you should entertain me.”   
  
Minho rolled his eyes. “And how should I do that?”   
  
“You could…rap? Or sing? Or…” He smiled mischievously, all previous sadness completely gone. “There’s something else you could do.”   
  
Minho pretended to think for a moment. “I’ve no idea what you’re thinking of. But I may have a few ideas of my own.” His eyes darkened as he looked up at the younger boy and slowly, he reached up with one hand and gently tugged Taemin’s face down. “Come here,” he whispered lowly. Taemin didn’t resist and brought their faces closer, still not giving Minho what he wanted though.   
  
“Ask me nicely.”   
  
“Ask? Ask for what?”   
  
“You know. Ask for it.”   
  
“You’re making me ask permission to kiss my boyfriend?” Minho asked incredulously, but they remained just as close, barely any space between them. Taemin nodded once.    
  
Minho debated for a second whether to actually humor Taemin’s wish or not. And then he remembered that Taemin was entirely pushing his luck here, considering he’d already monopolized every second of Minho’s one free day and had also caused him to lose his game. He figured the least Taemin could do to make it up to him was to shut up and let him make out with him in peace.   
  
“Shut up Taemin,” Minho growled and before Taemin could object, though both knew he wouldn’t, Minho closed the space between them, kissing him soundly. Taemin’s lips were soft against his, moving shyly before Minho coaxed him to kiss back harder, more boldly. They’re lips moved as one, mouths opening and tongues sliding against each other playfully until Minho’s hands tightened around Taemin’s waist and kissed him harder.   
  
Taemin sighed into the kiss and sagged down against his boyfriend, smiling slightly into the kiss when Minho moaned and slid his hands beneath Taemin’s shirt. It was easier than he’d thought it would be to distract Minho, he thought to himself pleasantly.


	3. 5 Minute Intimacy

Taemin resisted the urge to glance at the clock, the oppressive force of its mere presence taunting him; reminding him he only had about 20 minutes before his hyungs returned with dinner for the night.   
  
He heard the bathroom down the hall open, and only a few seconds later, Minho appeared in the room’s doorway. A towel was slung around his waist, riding precariously low on his hips as he used one hand to run a second towel through his short hair.   
  
Taemin sat on the edge of the bed and watched him, waiting.   
  
“What’s wrong?” the older boy asked, slinging the towel in his hand over the back of a chair as he walked past it and towards the bed.   
  
Taemin didn’t answer, instead just crooked his finger, beckoning the other closer. When Minho was near enough, Taemin grabbed his hyung’s hands and tugged, pulling him down over him as he himself fell backward.   
  
Minho was startled by the move and fell forward awkwardly. He threw out his arms onto the bed just in time to prevent himself from crushing the smaller boy. He couldn’t lie on the bed since Taemin had been sitting at the edge, and so was forced to let his knees dig uncomfortably into the mattress.   
  
Taemin gazed up at him, taking in every small line and tracing each of the masculine features with his eyes. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, reminding him of the time slipping inevitably away.   
  
He framed Minho’s face with his hands and gently brought the older boy’s head closer to his. His lips met Minho’s halfway, fingers travelling to wrap more snugly around his head and to tangle in the short strands of his hair as he allowed Minho to deepen the kiss.   
  
After a moment, the two somewhat awkwardly crawled their way up the bed, making it much easier for Minho to lie over his lover. A sound escaped from the back of his throat when Taemin nipped at his lips, hiking his legs up over Minho’s waist and tickling the older boy’s skin with the coarse fabric of his jeans. The towel slipped even lower, revealing the swell of Minho’s lower back. Taemin’s hands skimmed down his skin and finally came to a rest right above the edge of the towel, a finger teasingly rubbing between Minho’s bottom.   
  
Taemin tore his lips away with a groan as Minho’s hips rolled into his. His lover let his lips latch onto the side of his neck and sucked, being careful not to leave too bright of a mark.    
  
Beside them, the clock showed only 5 minutes before the other members were due back, but both were too far gone to pay any mind to it.


	4. A Promise You Can't Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Minho is a soldier, and Taemin would rather die than have to watch him leave to serve again.

“I don’t want you to leave again,” Taemin murmured. He scooted farther back into Minho’s embrace, closing his eyes against a way of emotion that swelled inside him at the feel of Minho’s arms tightening around his waist.   
  
Minho had his face in the nape of Taemin’s neck, inhaling deeply and trying to memorize the soft scent that was uniquely  _him_ . “I know,” he whispered. “But I have to.” Reaching down, Taemin took one of Minho’s hands and laced his fingers through the older boy’s, gripping them tightly.   
  
Beneath them the grass was prickly but warm, the sun casting them in a comforting glow as it began its slow descent to beneath the horizon. Taemin felt small stirrings of weariness take over him and struggled to remain awake in Minho’s arms, loathe to fall asleep and miss even a single precious moment he had left with Minho.   
  
“I’ll be back before you know it though. And we’ll go fishing like we do every summer. I’ll even let you ride in front on my motorbike,” he said quietly.   
  
“I don’t want to ride on your motorbike,” Taemin replied petulantly, feeling his eyes prickle. He heard Minho sigh but couldn’t find it in himself to act more agreeable. “I just don’t want you to go. I’m tired of the service asking you back. You’ve served your time and you deserve to rest at home,”  _with me_  remained unsaid.   
  
Minho kissed the back of Taemin’s neck gently, the hand not in Taemin’s slowly sliding beneath Taemin’s shirt to stroke his pale, soft stomach. “I would stay if I could, you know that. But I can’t just say no to duty.” His lips now found Taemin’s tiny ear, flicking the shell of his ear with his tongue as he murmured, “Just tell me you love me baby. That’s all I need to hear.”   
  
Taemin remained silent, but the small, choked cry that escaped said it all.


	5. Behind the Wheel, Beneath the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin wishes he had the chance to at least say sorry for being so reckless.

Taemin falls asleep and wishes he hadn’t. So stupid, he feels so stupid. What had Minho told him before he left?    
  
_What until the morning, drive then—you’re too tired now…  
  
No Minho hyung, I’m not. I can go now_ , he’d smiled there,  _Will you wait for me?_   
  
Minho had nodded.  _Of course, I will always wait for you_ .   
  
And now Taemin finds himself staring at the car as it lays broken and shattered and the small boy inside endures as a crippled little thing. It’s too late.  _I fell asleep—I’m so sorry Minho-hyung, it’s my fault._   
  
When he looks up he sees nothing but the empty sky but it doesn’t look so lonely. It looks full and turgid with something he can’t really place. Someday everything will be okay.  _I promise Minho-hyung._


	6. Boy's Got Pizzazz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin only knows what trouble is because it lives next door to him.

No one would look at Lee Taemin and think he had a rebellious bone in his body. He was squeaky clean, respectful, punctual, responsible, and every other adjective to describe the perfect, angelic child.    
  
Minho was another story. He was 18 and had already made it his life’s goal to get the world in the palm of his hand. He was sly, clever, and could bullshit his way into—and  _out of_ —anything and everything. No sticky situation was too sticky for him.   
  
Taemin wanted to say he hated his neighbor of 12 years but that would be a lie. He didn’t hate him for his nonconformist ways—he envied him for them. What Taemin would do to be able to let loose once in awhile and not be afraid, or at the very least not care, if he got reprimanded for it. Minho got away with everything. Taemin couldn’t away with watching TV on a school night.   
  
And then one day Minho wasn’t his neighbor anymore. Finding out their son was gay and had let one of his teammates from football go down on him—and had gotten caught—was apparently one rebellion too many for them. Taemin had watched from his bedroom window that night as Minho stomped out the front door of his house, cursing his parents loudly enough that even Taemin could faintly hear him. Minho didn’t show up to school the next day—or the next, or the next.   
  
He was in the back of Taemin’s mind though, always there and always a wonder. Minho wasn’t there physically to disturb him, but he was still  _there_ . Even ripped from his life, Minho was the closest Taemin would ever get to trouble.


	7. But Not Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin gives in to Minho's strange request.

A fat teardrop of sweat dribbled down the edge of Minho’s nose. Taemin watched its slow descent as the older boy stared intensely at Taemin’s face, the other refusing to meet his gaze. He leaned forward a bit closer, tongue journeying out of his mouth and licking his lips as he focused on Minho’s face.   
  
“Well?” There was a foreign hint of impatience in his voice when Minho spoke but it wasn’t enough to discourage Taemin’s scrutiny. He blinked several times and leaned in even closer, now only a hair’s breath away from Minho’s face.   
  
His breath ghosted over Minho’s lips, mint mingling with soft skin. Taemin remained absolutely still for another few seconds before his eyes unexpectedly shot to Minho’s, finally making eye contact.   
  
“None. Or a few. Maybe sunspots, I dunno but definitely nothing noticeable.” He felt more than heard Minho’s exhalation of relief. Without thinking, Taemin’s head swooped in and closed the distance between him and his older band member, placing his saliva-slick lips against Minho’s chapped ones. Minho’s mouth was warm and soft against his in the few seconds they held the kiss before Minho finally pulled away.   
  
“Thanks,” he whispered. “Taemin-ah, it’s your turn,” he said, voice rising slightly.   
  
Taemin groaned. “Minho-hyung, really, I don’t care how many freckles or blemishes I have on my face, alright? Why are we doing something so pointless when we could be doing more important things?” His protests went unheard as Minho’s head loomed close again. Taemin resisted the urge to roll his eyes, retaliating instead by tangling his thin fingers in Minho’s thick mane of hair and pulling him even closer—eliminating the irksome space between them.


	8. Close to Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin may be a monster; what does that make Minho for loving him?

One day Minho woke up and realized how close he was to death. Not close in the literal sense, that would be too lucky. Close in the sense that he slept next to a murderer every night.   
  
Close in the sense that he had a killer wrapping his pretty, plump little lips around his aching erection every night. Those same lips would curve into a licentious smile and pout so prettily when watching someone tied up; gagged; screaming.   
  
Close in the sense that he could sometimes almost  _taste_  the coppery hint of blood still on his lover’s skin as he fucked him into their mattress. God it felt wonderful—beautiful, wonderful,  _hothothot_  and achingly pleasurable. His little lover’s nails would rake down his back with every thrust and beg him to go faster. Head tilted back, exposing the pale column of his throat.    
  
And then he would think about all the throats Taemin—the killer of course, not Taemin the lover—had slashed in his lifetime and Minho remembered once again that yeah, this was probably hell for some people.   
  
Not Minho. He was maybe too far gone to think of the iniquity of his life.


	9. Closeted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically they're both out of the closet. Technically, they're both going back.

Taemin winced as his back slammed against the wall. His eyes didn’t get a moment to adjust to the new lighting, or lack thereof, before searing lips pressed hungry kisses across his neck, up his jaw, and finally to his mouth.   
  
He released a muffled moan, shifting so he could slip his hands around a warm neck and tangle in hopelessly messy brown hair.   
  
“A broom cupboard? Really Minho?” he asked breathlessly when his boyfriend finally pulled away.   
  
“Well, why not? You did dare me to find the most ‘unassuming’ place to do  _it_ ,” Minho replied, with a lascivious grin.


	10. Coming Home and In Your Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho's idea of home is a little different from the dictionary definition.

Taemin wasn’t the best at giving head, being so inexperienced, but when Minho needed something to take the edge off, it was always Taemin he went to. Partly because the younger boy never refused him; mostly because what Taemin lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm.   
  
All Minho had to do was text Taemin that he was coming over and his friend would be ready, already knowing what to expect. Sure sometimes Minho really did come over just to play video games or finish the ending of an old movie. More often than not though he just really,  _really_  needed Taemin’s mouth around his cock.   
  
It felt good—really good. Taemin would open the door for him and lead him through his apartment with their fingers laced (even though Minho by now knew every nook and cranny of the place; he certainly knew where the bedroom was). The door to his room would hardly be closed before Minho had Taemin pushed down on his knees. At one point Minho had actually opened his pants up and pulled himself out for Taemin. Now…well, why not let Taemin do it?   
  
With his teeth.   
  
There was nothing in the world like that initial suck, when Taemin nuzzled the head of Minho’s cock for a second, as though reacquainting himself with it, before wrapping his pretty plump lips around the head. Small, experimental sucks, trying to gauge just how badly Minho needed his release.    
  
Taemin wasn’t good enough to know how to tease, but he was damn good at making Minho want to shove his whole dick down his throat with how slow he moved sometimes. Sometimes—Minho actually would. He loved when he would catch Taemin just after the boy showered; his face moist and his hair damp as Minho held him tightly and fucked his face; the sounds Taemin would make around Minho’s cock; that look of almost pain as he struggled to breathe and control himself, not gag.   
  
For most, home is where the heart is. In Minho’s case, it’s where his cock is—right down Taemin’s throat.


	11. Dearest, Nearest Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho likes to read Taemin's diary.

Minho tells himself it’s not snooping when he goes into Taemin and Jinki’s shared bedroom. He has no real intention of looking through closed drawers or beneath beds or inside closets. He just happens to find himself in Taemin’s room, by his bed,  _casually_  rearranging the pillows.   
  
He acts surprised when his fingers lightly skim the spine of a thick, hardcover book. It’s for pretense purposes only of course, because Minho already knows it should be there. And it’s not because he’d been ‘snooping’ in Taemin’s room before and had found the book that he knew where it was. It was just…intuition.   
  
Obviously he can’t just leave the book there, out in the open, so he picks it up. It’s funny how the book falls open in his palm and his fingers just happen to leaf through the thin, crinkled pages until he comes to the latest entry. It’s dated for the previous night, Minho discovers.   
  
He silences a chuckle as he reads through Taemin’s chicken scratch handwriting, the symbols thin and pushed together. At the very end, Taemin has his name scrawled like usual but what’s strange is the post script marked beneath it.   
  
_P.S. Minho, stop reading my journal_


	12. Entwined Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin could only hope his dad didn't catch him and Minho going at it.

Minho released a low groan in Taemin’s ear before his arms tightened around the smaller boy, pressing him deeper into the mattress as his lips found the soft skin on his neck. He could feel Taemin trembling in his hold, could feel the hot, needy spasms of his flesh as they rocked against each other, bare skin on skin and nearly every inch of their bodies held tightly together.   
  
Taemin dug his tiny fingers into Minho’s back, raking blunt nails down his spine as he threw his head back in a silent scream. Every time Minho’s cock pressed up against the beautiful little spot inside of him, an array of fireworks erupted behind his eyes, leaving him a mess of limbs and gasps.   
  
Somewhere along the way Taemin realized they should have talked about this before falling into bed. His parents would be home soon and catching their son in the middle of losing his innocence to his neighbor was not something he looked forward to. He gave a half-heartedly concerned thought to Minho’s well-being if his dad caught them, but then Minho buried his face in Taemin’s sweaty neck and sucked the pale, delicate skin until it turned a gradient of pink and purple and any thoughts Taemin may have been having disappeared.


	13. Fear of Change

“Everything is changing, hyung.”   
  
“Things have always been changing.”   
  
“But I don’t want  _this_  to change. I don’t want to change.”   
  
“You have to. It’s part of growing up.”   
  
“I’m scared.”   
  
“Aren’t we all?”   
  
“What are you afraid of, Minho-hyung?”   
  
“You.”   
  
“Me?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Someday you won’t be Taeminnie anymore. You’ll be Taemin, just Taemin.”   
  
“Then why are you afraid of me?”   
  
“I’m afraid of what you can do to me.”   
  
“What can I do?”   
  
“Leave.”   
  
“I’ll never leave you Minho-hyung.”   
  
“You don’t know that.”   
  
“I do. I’ll be your Taeminnie forever. Are you still afraid now, Minho-hung?”   
  
“Not anymore…Taeminnie.”


	14. Guns of Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho's arms are a thing to be worshiped, in Taemin's objective opinion.

Minho seemed to have this  _thing_ , and it didn’t take long for Taemin to catch on to it. Not that Minho was very subtle about it—subtlety simply did not exist in Choi Minho’s vocabulary.   
  
And why would it? The boy exuded confidence and a strength like the sun shot out rays of light and if anyone tried to tell Minho about the notion of modesty well, expectations shouldn’t be very high on favorable results.   
  
Which brought Taemin back to his earlier musings. This  _thing_  Minho had wasn’t necessarily bad, but it was troublesome. Troublesome in the way that it had people Taemin did not appreciate appreciating what should only be  _his_  to appreciate. This thing where Minho, to put it frankly, liked to roll up his sleeves and display for all and sunder to see the hard earned biceps, triceps, deltoids and artistic lines of muscle that corded his arms. Taemin’s stomach flipped pleasantly at just the mental image.   
  
In the beginning, after he’d gotten over his initial surprise at realizing Minho’s habit, Taemin had learned to be appreciative of Minho’s shamelessness. Then Taemin’s noonas and friends had started taking notice as well, asking Minho to show off his arms more often. Then manager-shi decided it was good fanservice and _encouraged_  Minho to wear more sleeveless shirts, something Taemin did not altogether think was quite necessary, considering Minho’s propensity to roll up sleeved shirts anyway.   
  
The bottom line was that Taemin eventually grew to hate all the simpering attention Minho’s arms were getting and it definitely wasn’t because he was jealous of his older friend. No way. Why would he need to be jealous, anyway? Even if others got to see Minho’s arms, and even if Minho’s arms happened to be beautifully tanned and deliciously muscled and sinewy—Taemin got to  _feel_  said beautiful and delicious arms around him far more often than other people got to see them. After all, going to the gym with Minho had many perks other than to ‘bulk up’ (which Minho irritatingly insisted would never happen anyway, that ass).


	15. Hello, Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin loses his phone-again. Minho has yet to decide whether he'll help him look for it or not.

“I don’t think it’s fair hyung. This is the first phone I’ve lost in  _months_ —I should be allowed to get a new one!” Taemin threw himself across Minho’s bed, rumpling the bedsheets Minho had taken care that morning to make perfect and uncreased—the same amount of care he put into making his bed  _every_  day.   
  
The older boy scowled and kicked at Taemin’s feet hanging boneless over the edge of the bed. “And whose fault is that? Certainly not manager hyung’s.”   
  
“I can’t help it that I’m forgetful!” Taemin insisted hotly. “Besides, you’ve always been able to help me find my lost things before. Are you  _sure_  you haven’t seen this one? I had some really good pictures in it.” Taemin heard Minho sigh as he stood hidden within his closet, rummaging through stacks of clothes and hanging jackets and belts to find a pair of clean pajama bottoms before deciding to just sleep in his boxers—again.   
  
He stood facing Taemin on the bed as he slid his hands beneath his shirt and slowly pulled it off, hanging it carelessly on the closet door’s doorknob before shimmying out of his jeans. “No, I haven’t seen it. Maybe you left it in the practice room? The last time I remember you using it was when you were texting me during dance practice.”   
  
Taemin groaned. “ _Nooo_ , I definitely had it with me in the van over to lunch today! I texted manager hyung to tell him when we were eating, remember?” He fell silent as Minho clambered onto the bed, crawling over the sheets before falling onto his side next to Taemin.    
  
“Cheer up Minnie, it couldn’t have gone that far. I’m sure someone picked it up,” he said. His hand slid across the expanse of Taemin’s stomach, hitching his shirt up to his nipples before lightly skimming his fingers across the smooth, pale skin. He smiled to himself as Taemin laughed, batting his hand away.   
  
“Stop trying to distract me,” he protested, scooting closer to Minho’s body and snuggling his face against his shoulder.    
  
“Is it working?”   
  
“Nope.” When he yawned, Minho wisely chose not to respond and let Taemin fall asleep right there next to him, too satisfied and comfortable to kick him of the bed to change into proper night clothes.


	16. Homework Helper

When Taemin first joined the small circle of friends, everything had been awkward between the trainees, from the stilted conversations to the uncomfortable looks the older boys shot each other when they thought he wouldn’t notice.   
  
Choi Minho, silent and nice enough when he did speak, was the worst. Taemin tried in the beginning to bring the older boy out of his shell, to engage him conversation since in their group they were the closest in age. Things remained strained.   
  
“Uhm hyung,” Taemin peeked his head into Minho’s dorm room, clutching his math textbook and pages of loose paper to his chest. He felt strange standing in the doorway but didn’t want to enter the room without permission.   
  
“Hm? What is it Taemin-ah?”   
  
Taemin gulped as Minho came into view. His hair was messy and he wore only a loose shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He must have just woken from a nap.   
  
“Can you—can you help me with some homework? I’m stuck,” he asked softly. Minho glanced behind him, looking somewhat hesitant. “If you’re busy it’s okay!” he quickly added. “I can ask Jinki hyung or—”   
  
“No, no,” Minho grabbed Taemin’s arm gently and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him as he shuffled the small boy into his room. “Stay as long as you want.”


	17. How To Say I Love You in Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything becomes awkward after Minho gets kissed by Jonghyun.

Except Taemin looked away first. Not Minho. And he knew it was stupid to have expected anything less but then again, Minho never looked away all those times Taemin left him for Jinki-hyung’s side and he sure as hell never turned away when Taemin approached Jinki instead of him for help, for guidance, for something— _anything_ . Minho knew his face must have looked priceless, shock warring with disbelief and resulting in a curious mixture of an awkward laugh and an even more awkward glance around.  _Everyone_  turned their face away and it was just him left sitting there more awkwardly, scooting closer to his older bandmate. Everyone looked away—   
  
Except Taemin looked away first.   
  
*   
  
They stood up from the risers and began the familiar routine, but Minho wasn’t thinking choreography in his head. He was thinking, questioning, wonderingwonderingwondering  _How is it that maknae gets away with it and not me?_ , which was also a stupid question because Taemin is the youngest member and he was able to get away with a lot more shit than Minho was even allowed to think about. As he threw his arm to the side and belted out the lyrics, he shoved the thought out of his mind. Useless thoughts had no place on stage, and that was a useless thought if ever there was one.   
  
Yeah he’d seen Taemin from the corner of his eye lean his mic toward Jinki-hyung after Minho had leaned his head toward Jonghyun. But no, he wasn’t really surprised by it. And no, his head hadn’t hung from embarrassment  _or_  guilt afterward either because fuck this, he had nothing to feel embarrassed or guilty about.   
  
It was a lot easier to tell himself this than believe it as the rehearsal went on. He could tell from the way Taemin faltered on the beginning dance moves that he wasn’t as unaffected by Minho’s sudden display of fanservice as he’d let on. Minho probably should have felt vindicated but since when did vindication taste like bile in his mouth? Nah, just a cough. One that he hacked out during his three second English rap, fucking that up too.    
  
To redeem himself he executed some fancy dance moves and wow, it actually worked. Taemin laughed with him, following his lead and doing his own ridiculous improv dance, shaking his ass at the audience and rocking his hips in Minho’s direction. Their eyes locked at that point and in a look longer than the amount of time Minho sings in almost any given song, he tried to convey that  _I’m sorry_  even though he still didn’t believe he had anything to be sorry for.    
  
It worked, or at least that was how it seemed. Taemin was still laughing as the last strains of the music played out. Not wanting to push his luck though, this time Minho looked away first.


	18. If You've Missed Your Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin learns the hard way why it's important to live in the moment.

Every day Taemin woke up and would think to himself,  _Today’s the day. I will be brave and I will tell him._  Every day Taemin would convince himself to do it. He would mentally list all the reasons why he should and from there slowly but surely let his conviction sway until he was left standing in front of the bathroom mirror or in the shower without any will left to actually go through with it.   
  
Minho didn’t make it easy, that was for sure. He was just simply always  _there_ , everywhere, every place that Taemin wanted to be and every place Taemin wanted to escape to. Taemin wasn’t stupid—he knew it wasn’t intentional, just coincidental. But it was also frustrating, seeing Minho all the time and in all places and  _knowing_ what he wanted to tell him and yet unable to do so.   
  
He wasn’t scared so much as he was uncertain of what would happen. It wasn't exactly fear of the unknown that kept him from confessing, it was fear that he wouldn’t confess in the right way, that Minho wouldn’t take him seriously or worse, misunderstand him and be amused instead of flattered.   
  
Every day Taemin woke up and told himself  _that_  day would be  _the_  day he confessed, until one morning Taemin woke up and remembered the night before, when Minho came back to the dorm and told him he wanted to confess to  _her_ .


	19. If You've Never Cheated

“I can’t believe you, hyung!” Tears threatened to spill—well, gush—but Taemin did his damnedest to hold them back.   
  
Minho felt his chest clench when he caught the wobble of Taemin’s bottom lip. “Taemin-ah, I’m sorry—you know I’m sorry!” he desperately apologized.   
  
“I  _hate_  you!” Taemin hissed, before stomping his way back to his room and slamming the door—hard.   
  
Several hours later, Kibum came huffing down to the living room, plopping none too gentle onto Jinki’s lap. He stared at Jonghyun and Minho, who averted his gaze guiltily and crossed his arms over his chest.   
  
“Well?” he asked impatiently.   
  
“Well what?” Jonghyun was watching his favorite far too intently to care about whatever had his best friend’s knickers in a twist.   
  
“Anyone want to explain why maknae is locked in his room and cursing like the world’s blowing up?”   
  
“Oh that? Minho cheated,” Jonghyun stated bluntly.   
  
“ _What?!_ ?” Kibum’s eyes rounded on Minho, ready to tear the younger apart. Beneath his gaze, Minho withered into a guilty slump.   
  
“Calm down, Key,” exasperation colored Jonghyun’s words, “Haven’t  _you_  ever cheated on Starcraft?”


	20. It's in His Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither of them have ever been this in love.

Taemin has never felt such happiness before and he worries, because he knows love like this is ephemeral at best.

“Say it again, hyung,” he beseeches to the boy kneeling before him. His eyes sting with prickles of tears but he blinks them back.

“I love you Taemin-ah.” Minho looks just as radiant, perhaps more so, as Taemin falls to his knees to join the older boy. He wraps his arms around his neck and holds him close, face burying into his neck and inhaling deeply.

“I love you too Minho-yah,” he whispers into Minho’s skin, shuddering when Minho’s arms wrap around his waist and drag him into his lap. He’s never felt so happy before—but Minho hasn’t either and that makes him feel better.


	21. Li(k)e

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho's worried about something. Taemin wishes he weren't so easily distracted.

“You have that look in your eyes,” Taemin whispered into the soft crook of Minho’s neck.   
  
“Hm? And what look is that?” a small, teasing smile lighted Minho’s face as he shifted his face slightly to look at Taemin.   
  
They lay sprawled on Minho’s bed, the sheet pulled snuggly around the two lovers. Outside the sun was just beginning to peek up from above the horizon, casting golden rays on Taemin’s skin that was visible above the blanket. Minho marveled for a moment at the warm hues of his lover’s skin before remembering Taemin had spoken.   
  
“You’re worried about something, but I have no idea what.”   
  
“I thought it was Kibum-hyung’s job to worry.” Minho’s jest was lost on Taemin, as Taemin scowled before pulling away and sitting up.   
  
“I’m serious! What’s wrong?” Taemin watched as his hyung’s eyes clouded, losing all traces of mirth.   
  
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said. Before Taemin could retort, Minho wrapped a strong, calloused hand around his neck and tugged him unceremoniously down to meet his lips in a demanding kiss. The ferocity in the kiss startled Taemin momentarily, before he shuddered and lost himself to the torrent of raw need.    
  
He shifted to lie more comfortably atop Minho, aligning their bodies perfectly. Taemin could not contain a groan of approval as Minho suddenly flipped them over, so that he was then lying on top of Taemin.   
  
Minho pulled his lips away from the tantalizing mouth of his closest friend, much to Taemin’s disapproval, before latching onto the smooth skin of his neck. Taemin threw his head to the side, giving Minho better access.   
  
“ _Yes, yes…there, right there…please…oh,_ ” soft, tempting whimpers escaped Taemin’s mouth with little attempt to quell them. Taemin knew Minho loved his wild abandon in bed, the way his normally reserved self always was so completely consumed by Minho’s passion, the way he lost all inhibitions.


	22. Little Pain Called Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things Minho wishes he didn't know. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Everyone makes mistakes. Minho tells himself this as he stumbles up the staircase, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He feels strangely disoriented and weak, eyes seeing double of everything as he looks around.   
  
He repeats the phrase again every time he puts one foot on the next step.  _Everyone makes mistakes…Everyone makes mistakes…Everyone…_  It doesn’t help him. He’s trying—trying so hard to let those three words scourge anything and everything else from his mind, needing to erase the images and the mistakes and the  _I shouldn’t have gone there_  regrets from his mind but it doesn’t help.   
  
Why? Why did he do it? Minho was never a masochist nor was he stupid. Logic had told him going to the bar was a stupid idea and yet insecurity had convinced him he needed to prove to himself he was stronger than this, that all his doubts were baseless.   
  
That was how he ended up there and that was why he was back in his apartment, a pounding headache threatening to render him into a useless slump on the ground. He shouldn’t have begun drinking afterward. More regrets to sink his heavy stomach.   
  
Everyone makes mistakes, he tells himself again. He fishes his apartment key out of his pocket and unlocks his door, quietly closing it shut behind him before toeing his shoes off. He tugs at his shirt and wrings his hands in front of him as he walks in the direction of his bedroom.   
  
It’s a tough pill to swallow, truth. The truth is that Minho, despite his better judgment, went to the bar and found Taemin just as their friends had warned him he would find him—that is, his fingers cupping the soft breasts of a faceless girl and his tongue pressed warmly into her mouth.   
  
It was a hard thing to accept but even telling himself it was a mistake,  _everyone makes mistakes_ , did not make the truth any easier to forget.


	23. Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin's always been messy. Minho's never been able to say no to him.

Minho trudged his way through Taemin’s room, picking his way through a littering of socks, shirts, pencils, bags, and accessories that Minho  _knew_  Kibum told Taemin to pick up and arrange properly before going to bed last night.   
  
Through the jungle of Taemin’s things, Minho finally uncovered Taemin’s bed and crawled onto it, getting beneath the covers. He found Taemin still sleeping in the middle and rolled toward him. His jostling of the bed seemed to have roused his younger bandmate from his quiet slumber. His mouth cracked open in a tired yawn just before his eyes opened and blearily found his friend in bed with him.   
  
“Your room is a mess Minnie,” Minho admonished quietly. He sunk down next to Taemin, gathering him into his arms and nestling his head into Taemin’s wild, strawberry gold hair.   
  
“Mm, I know. You’ll help me clean it, right?” Minho knew he should say no, since it wasn’t his fault Taemin was a bit of a slob and kept his things messy, and it certainly wasn’t his duty to help him clean up. Somehow he still found himself agreeing to Taemin’s request.   
  
“Sure,” he said, breathing in deeply and fighting back a wave of sleepiness that came from being cocooned in Taemin’s warmth.


	24. Minho's Charming Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Taemin's starcall and his apparent fail at making ramen.

Puffs of steam curled out from the steel pot on the stove, the water only just beginning to boil. After Taemin added the ramen noodles, he walked back to the dinner table and sat down, picking up the magazine he had set down earlier.   
  
He skimmed through it for several minutes before standing again to finish his ramen. When he had the spice added and just begun to drain the water at the sink, Minho walked into the kitchen, letting out a groan.   
  
“Ramen?  _Again?_ ” he asked walking over to Taemin and wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.   
  
Taemin jabbed him lightly with his elbow. “Have some compassion,” he chided, “Kibum-hyung is still sick.” He shrugged off the older boy’s arms and took out a bowl from the cupboard, pouring the contents of pot into the glass container.   
  
He set the pot into the sink and made his way to the fridge, pulling out a small, clear bottle of honey. He went back to his bowl on the counter, where Minho was leaning against the wood and drizzled a bit of the viscous liquid over the noodles.   
  
“What are you doing?” Minho asked in disbelief as he watched the younger boy. Taemin shot him a grin.   
  
“I tried it earlier with pepper paste, but it didn’t taste so good. So now I’m trying it with honey. Ramen is so bland, don’t you think?” He laughed and took out a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, stirring the honey and ramen concoction. He raised a large clump of noodles up and was just about to bring it to his mouth when Minho beat him to it.   
  
The older boy held Taemin’s wrist steady as he wrapped his lips carefully over the end of the steaming chopsticks. He pulled away and bit off the strands, chewing slowly and swishing the noodles in his mouth. As Taemin watched, his lover’s face melted into a look of disgust just after swallowing.   
  
“Taeminnie, this isn’t right,” he said, shaking his head and taking the bowl from the smaller boy.   
  
“Hyung! I was gonna eat that!” he cried as Minho dumped the ramen into the garbage.   
  
“Trust me, I saved you a trip to the toilet,” he stated bluntly, dropping the bowl into the sink next to the pot. “You should thank me for saving you from a whole day of vomiting.”   
  
Taemin glared at the older boy while Minho simply gave him a charming smile.


	25. Music, Fireworks, and Laughter

Outside the shallow booms of brightly lit fireworks sounded. Children roamed the streets in delight, crowds gathered to watch the spectacle, and many shared the joyous moment of the night festivities with loved ones.   
  
Taemin remained in bed, fingers grappling at his bed sheet and relishing in the exquisite pleasure of Minho’s every caress. His lover made love to him to the steady rhythm of the fireworks outside, fingers tight around his thighs and face melted in a picture of pained pleasure.   
  
Taemin reached up and brought Minho’s mouth to his, meeting him halfway. Throughout the dorm, a cheer resounded from their other band members and friends, all enjoying themselves in the privacy of the living room. Minho’s thrusts changed to short, shallow plunges that echoed the cries of revelry.   
  
Taemin’s hands were sweaty, slipping down Minho’s back from Minho’s own perspired skin. They’d been slaking their lust for one another for nearly two hours, enjoying their first substantial amount of time together in weeks. He hiked his legs higher up Minho’s back and raked his nails down Minho's sides, blunt nails leaving scarlet lines as evidence of his pleasure.   
  
Minho buried his face between Taemin’s flushed face and the pillow, taking the small shell of his ear between his teeth. His breath was hot and soothing as he whispered, “Happy Independence Day.”   
  
Taemin’s only reply was another moan as he threw his head to the side in a silent, open-mouthed scream. His release took him by surprise, the friction and Minho’s proximity bearing too much for the smaller boy as he saw his own fireworks behind closed eyes.   
  
Minho thrust several minutes longer, eyes closed as he tried to stave off the inevitable. He never wanted this moment to end, never wanted to let the pleasure fade.   
  
When Taemin suddenly clenched harder around him, he knew he was close. Taemin felt it too, as Minho twitched inside him.   
  
“Come inside,” he said, voice husky from hours of groaning. Minho had the irritating habit of pulling out at the last minute and coming on his thighs. ‘ _Easier to clean_ ’ he insisted.   
  
For once, Minho granted Taemin’s wish and, not a moment later, found his release, thrusting through it to heighten the final feeling of euphoria.   
  
When he could take no more, he fell to the side and pulled Taemin to him, wrapping him in his arms and tucking his head beneath his chin. Minho slipped out—much to his disappointment—just as Taemin slung his leg over Minho's waist.   
  
Together, they fell asleep to the music of fireworks and laughter.


	26. Nights of Labor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin is too tired to get up.

Taemin lay sprawled on the couch between Minho's legs, his head resting comfortably on his partner's chest. Minho's hands had slipped underneath Taemin's shirt, running his hands over the soft skin of his stomach.   
  
"We should go up to bed soon," Minho whispered into Taemin's ear. Taemin merely  _hmm_ ed in response, too comfortable in Minho's embrace to move.    
  
"Come on love, let's go," Minho repeated. Taemin made a whine of protest as Minho shifted beneath him to dislodge the smaller boy. Unable to resist, he stood groggily and rubbed his knuckles across his eyes. A small kiss was smothered in his hair before Minho took his hand and led him upstairs.


	27. Omnia Vincit Amor (Love Conquers All)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter AU. Minho and Taemin are forced to spend detention in the Forbidden Forest.

‘I can’t believe you snapped my wand,’ Taemin whimpered, thinking about what remained of his wand—two useless splintered pieces of nymph wood.   
  
‘You snapped mine first,’ Minho retorted. He crossed his arms behind his head carelessly as he walked ahead of the younger boy, eyes closed and depending on his senses only to pick his way through the forest.   
  
‘You’re a  _prefect_ , you’re not supposed to retaliate!’   
  
‘Oh? Is that so? Was I supposed to let you get away with it then? I was supposed to allow you to make off with my precious wand because you’re an idiot and couldn’t find your own?’   
  
‘ _Yes_ ! That’s exactly what you were supposed to do! You could have easily reprimanded me and told me to give you your wand back but nooo, instead you have to take mine and break it!’ Taemin kicked angrily at the ground, the front of his already ratty sneaker getting covered in wet grass and mud. ‘And I can’t believe professor gave us detention with Hagrid—she  _knew_  he’d make us go into the forest, I know she did. She’s off her rocker I tell you. In fact, all of the professors are, I’m sure of it. Honestly, have you any idea—’   
  
‘My god, do shut up Taemin. You’re giving me a migraine and we’ve still got hours left in our detention tonight.’   
  
Huffing, Taemin grabbed the back of Minho’s robe and tugged him to a stop, waiting until he’d turned around before speaking. ‘You should just admit this is all your fault and apologize.’ Even in the dark Taemin could tell the older boy was rolling his eyes. He jabbed the front of Minho’s robes, right over the Gryffindor insignia. ‘If you hadn’t broken my wand, we wouldn’t be in detention.’   
  
Minho scowled and took a step forward, towering over Taemin’s tiny frame. ‘I already told you,  _you_  shouldn’t have taken my wand in the first place.’   
  
‘I hate you.’   
  
‘Oh is that so? That’s not what you were saying last night in the kitchens—or the astronomy tower, or Honeydukes, or on the Hogwarts express, or—’    
  
‘I  _really_  hate you,’ Taemin said again, shoving Minho out of the way and stomping away ahead of him. He heard Minho’s resounding laughter before a smack landed on his arse, eliciting a sharp yelp from the smaller boy.   
  
_Idiot_ , Taemin thought as he spun around to give Minho another piece of his mind.


	28. Perfect Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Minho says he’s going to do something, it’s a safe bet to assume he’ll do it. And he won’t quit until he’s done exactly what he said he would.

When Minho says he’s going to do something, it’s a safe bet to assume he’ll do it. And he won’t quit until he’s done exactly what he said he would.   
  
It should not have surprised Taemin that when Minho said he was going to set the younger boy up with the perfect person, he would not quit until he accomplished it. Apparently, because Minho has ‘such good luck with the ladies,’ and Taemin never seems to date, Minho had an obligation to help his friend out.   
  
They spend three nights a week for nearly two months going to clubs and bars. Minho tries getting Taemin smashed, tries to get him loose enough and uninhibited enough to start talking to women or dancing with women, or at the very least, tell Minho which girl in the club he finds attractive. Either Taemin doesn’t realize Minho is doing this from the bottom of his heart in genuine hopes of helping him, or he just really doesn’t care, because all attempts at finding him the perfect partner fail. Miserably.   
  
It’s no surprise when Minho snaps. Really, Taemin is just surprised it takes him this long.   
  
“Fuck, would you at least give her a  _chance_ ? I swear Taemin, you never even look at the girls before saying no to them! Give me a hint or something,  _what are you looking for?_ ” Minho’s eyes cross momentarily as he picks up his shot glass and downs its contents in one swallow. His eyes turn to Taemin and pin him with a heated gaze. “Well?!”   
  
“They’re just not my type hyung,” Taemin says. His voice shakes, fingers trembling on the bar as he avoids Minho’s probing gaze.   
  
“Is  _anyone_  your type?” Taemin bites his lip hard, holding back what he wants to say. Instead, he nods mutely. He can feel the sudden waves of surprise rolling over Minho. “Who is then?” he asks him. Taemin resists the urge to scowl, knowing this isn’t going to go well and not really caring.   
  
“Follow me,” he says, and he hops off the bar stool, not looking to see if Minho is following him as he trudges his way through dancing, laughing, excited bodies in the club—his destination being the relatively quiet bathrooms.   
  
He stops inside, waiting only a second before Minho joins him. “You really wanna know who I’d like?” Minho nods his head. He doesn’t miss a beat as he replies, “You. I like you. Gonna do anything about it?”   
  
Minho is silent. Taemin waits for him to say something, give him some sort of shocked reaction,  _anything_ . All he does is stand there.    
  
Until a second later, when he steps closer to Taemin and lifts one hand to trail his fingers down Taemin’s cheek, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Well. Told you I’d find you the perfect partner,” and then he leans closer to Taemin, ready to prove himself right.


	29. Restless Legs

The bed creaked as Taemin shifted once again. He kicked off the bed sheets and rolled onto his stomach, settling in that position for hardly a minute before turning onto his other side. He heaved a sigh, fisting the sheets in his hand.   
  
“Mmm…what’s wrong Taemin-ah?” Minho’s voice was raspy from sleep as he tiredly slung his arm over his lover’s middle and dragged him to his chest, spooning him.   
  
“Nothing, sorry,” Taemin whispered, feeling bad about having woken the older boy up.   
  
Minho buried his face into the back of Taemin’s neck, the wisps of long hair tickling his nose as he inhaled deeply the maknae’s unique scent. “Can’t you sleep?” he asked softly.   
  
Taemin was quiet for a moment before finally, almost reluctantly, admitting, “My legs are restless again.”   
  
As someone who spent more of his waking hours dancing than doing anything else, Taemin’s legs often cramped painfully at night and Minho understood this. He was silent as he groggily sat up and rubbed his eyes awake with one hand. He pushed the rest of the covers away and moved down the bed.   
  
“Minho-yah, you don’t have to—” Taemin tried to protest.   
  
“Shh, just relax, okay? We need as much sleep as possible before tomorrow’s performance.” For the next 15 minutes or so, Minho silently rubbed the aches from Taemin’s legs, beginning from his thighs and eventually moving to his calves. As his hands massaged the tight muscles loose, it wasn’t long before Minho’s careful hands had Taemin gently dosing off.   
  
When he was satisfied the muscles weren’t tense, Minho grabbed the sheet and brought it over himself and Taemin, once more pulling the smaller boy into an embrace. Taemin mumbled something indistinguishable but Minho just brushed his lips over his ear, murmuring quietly, “I love you.”


	30. Road-Blocker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn. No plot.

When Minho found him, Taemin had his hand down his pants with his legs spread wide on their bed. He didn’t look the least bit surprised when Minho walked into their bedroom. He didn’t even make a sound of embarrassment—just keened so deliciously high with his head thrown back and Minho’s name on his lips.   
  
Minho didn’t hesitate to tear his clothes off, not caring where they ended up as he rushed onto the bed. He paused for barely a second before gripping the tight denim of Taemin’s jeans in his hands and yanking them down. Taemin gasped but his hand was right there, still stroking his swollen red cock as he gazed at Minho beneath hooded eyes.   
  
“I’m so hard baby,” he whispered and Minho didn’t care that it was such an innocuous statement, considering he could  _see_  just how hard and aching his lover was. He was silent as he slapped Taemin’s hand away and replaced it with his mouth.   
  
God but Taemin was delicious. Minho shivered as Taemin’s precum flooded his mouth, his mouth opened as widely as it could go to fit around Taemin’s member. He licked the underside of his cock, traced the little veins playfully with the tip of his tongue before taking the whole flesh in his mouth again and just sucking so hard. He groaned when Taemin thrust into his mouth, so hard he felt himself gag but he calmed himself down and relaxed his throat, taking him so much deeper.    
  
Every bob of his head resulted in an obscene slurping sound as his saliva mixed with Taemin’s cum dribbled down the sides of the cock in his mouth. His jaw was aching in no time but he loved it, loved how Taemin forced him to go faster by fisting his hair in his hands and loved how he felt the sting of tears burn his eyes because he was swallowing something so big. Taemin tasted utterly delicious in his mouth—he just wanted this forever; wanted moremoremore and wanted to get as close as he could until he couldn’t even breathe anymore.


	31. Say How Much You Love It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not punishment—it's fun.

“That’s it baby, lemme hear you scream,” Minho growled. Taemin gave an angry groan of protest, bucking up beneath Minho’s arm just as his other landed hard on his bare ass.   
  
“ _MINHO!_ ” he all but screamed. With fisted hands he began hitting Minho’s leg, feeling humiliated and ashamed for his current predicament.    
  
Minho had him thrown lazily over his lap, holding him down with the strength of one arm as the other continued to slap Taemin’s ass and thighs repeatedly, turning his delicate skin an angry red. He’d long since ripped Taemin’s pants and underwear off, thrown both articles of clothing carelessly to the side as his hand caressed his lover’s flesh soothingly before going in for the kill, so to speak.   
  
“I fucking hate you!” Taemin cried out, biting back a whimper of pain as Minho slapped him three more times in quick succession.   
  
“You’re such a liar Taeminnie,” Minho groaned, running his hand down Taemin’s thigh to his knee and back up again. “I can tell you love it—say it baby, say how much you love  _this_ ,” he said, and by  _this_  he meant the calloused finger that found its way into Taemin’s entrance just as he ground out the last word.   
  
Taemin bit his bottom lip hard, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. No way in hell was he going to let his boyfriend know how much he was enjoying this. This was beyond  _humiliating_  after all, and if anyone ever knew how much Taemin was getting off on his boyfriend punishing him of all things, he’d never,  _ever_  live it down.


	32. Sunlight in My Hands

He held his hand up with the window, streaming virgin sunlight, as a backdrop behind it. Rays of sunshine peeked between his spread fingers, warming his palm and making him smile slightly as he noticed how small and thin his long fingers appeared.   
  
Taemin relished the warm morning. Beside him, Minho stirred as he rolled onto his side and slipped his arm over Taemin’s waist. Taemin gently—so as not to wake the slumbering boy—took the hand in his free one and slowly raised it up beside his.    
  
Using both hands, he spread the larger boy’s fingers until they fanned out the way Taemin had been holding his own only moments ago. His eyes furrowed in concentration as he gazed at them.   
  
Minho’s elbow was digging into his stomach, where it rested bent, but Taemin ignored it. Making sure the other boy was still asleep, he took his right hand and slipped his fingers between the four spaces of Minho’s hand. They fit like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces and when Minho, even in sleep, curled his fingers down around Taemin’s, Taemin felt his heart flutter in adoration.   
  
He finally dropped their hands though he didn’t release his hold on the older boy. He leaned over and rested his head on Minho’s shoulder, his warm breath ruffling the tangled bangs falling over Taemin’s eyes. He slowly let his eyes close, welcoming the few more minutes of sleep that he longed for.   
  
From the window shone a ray of light, haloing their still joined hands.


	33. Wild Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes forgiveness is a given. Sometimes.

When the minute hand meets the hour hand at 12, Minho drops his head onto the arm of the couch and finally closes his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose. How slowly four hours pass when he’s waiting for Taemin. Time—always too slow.   
  
He hears the sound of the lock being turned before the apartment door swings open. Taemins stumbles inside with his hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled. The scent of cheap perfume, burnt cigarettes, and stale alcohol follow him inside.  _Where’ve you been?_  Minho wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because he already knows.   
  
“Sorry I’m late,” Taemin says, voice slurring only slightly less than last week. Minho pretends to be asleep, waits as Taemin trips over the leg of the coffee table before leaning down and dropping a kiss on Minho’s cheek. In his head, Minho is already telling him  _It’s okay_ , even if it really isn’t.


	34. Winner Takes All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though Taemin always cheats in their games, Minho still wins.

Taemin is a little a cheat—no scratch that, not a cheat, a goddamn, irritating as hell  _tease_ . What was meant to be a simple, relaxing game of checkers ended up being Minho’s very own free porn show, with Taemin being the star performer. Minho doesn’t know whether to fling the game board away and pin Taemin down to do _things_  to him or if he should just wring his scrawny neck in retaliation.   
  
“Something wrong, hyung?” he asks, while grinning a grin of someone with his prey right in his trap. Minho bites his middle knuckle and refuses to look up because he knows Taemin is wearing a smirk.   
  
And little else.   
  
“Fuck you,” he hisses, and moves a red piece. Taemin laughs and he can see from the corner of his eye that the younger boy is leaning over the board, looking for all intents and purposes like he’s deliberating his next move. Minho knows better.   
  
When Taemin makes his move and moans— _sensually_ — afterward because he realizes it was a shitty one, Minho decides he’s had enough. All the little checkers pieces and the wooden board find themselves on the floor as Minho winds his arms around Taemin’s tiny waist and lifts him up. Taemin gives out a high pitch squeal, trying to give some semblance of protest even though this was exactly what he had been aiming for. Then Minho walks them across the bedroom and throws him onto the bed, joining him with his legs on either side of his body and his hands pinning him down by the shoulders to begin a whole new game.   
  
Minho already considers himself the winner.


	35. Yes/No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin is cruel and Minho is desperate.

Of all the suitors Taemin has ever had, he has to admit that Minho is the most persistent.   
  
“Taeminnie,  _please_  open the door?” Taemin laughs lightly from inside his apartment, switching the volume of the stereo louder. He throws his hands in the air, fingers splayed wide and head thrown back freely as he grins to no one and dances to the music filling the room.   
  
“Hyung~,” he exclaims loudly, knowing the other can hear him, “I can’t just open the door and let you in! Where would the fun be in that?”   
  
He hears a sharp kick hit the wood of his door and suppresses another sound of mirth. Goading Minho proves to be one of his new favorite pass times.


	36. Your Name Around My Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the collar around Taemin's neck that he enjoys the most.

For a moment he wondered if the reflection in the mirror was really showing him, for the face staring at him was far too ethereal, too soft, to perfect. He hardly recognized the face at all. All the features were perfectly outlined—the warm, angled doe eyes lined with a hint of kohl; the hint of rouge that had been brushed onto his sharp cheekbones; the full lips that had been painted with a faint red to accentuate them; his hair done neatly in a loose braid that fell to just by his shoulders.   
  
He brushed away a few dangling strands of auburn locks, his dainty, pale fingers matching the rest of him—tiny and almost frail, though his face was round from good food and spoiled nights. The longer he stared, the harder it was for him to understand what his master saw in him, had seen in him all those years ago when he’d been a child of 13 in the slave market. For sure he’d been nowhere near what he looked like now. Then he’d been scrawny and thin as a stick, all bones and painfully jutting joints. His master had been too kind back then, taking him in, but then then again, he still was, even now when Taemin had been in his possession for nearly ten years.   
  
How quickly those years had passed them by. Never for a moment had he regretted the way his life had turned out since being sold into the slave market. Indeed, every night he thanked the stars that it had been his current master above all else that chose to claim him; by now he’d claimed Taemin in every way imaginable since their first meeting all those years ago.   
  
He flushed as those thoughts raced through his mind. Reaching up, he carefully fingered the metal band locked around his neck.    
  
It was a symbol of property, that he belonged to his master entirely, in every way. It was necessary for him to wear when out in the streets, out in the open. People needed to know he was claimed after all. But though there was no reason for him to wear it inside his lord’s home, inside their very rooms, Taemin knew how much his lord enjoyed seeing him wear it. It was a show of acceptance, that Taemin wanted to be his just as much as he wanted Taemin.   
  
Using the mirror as his aid, he let his first finger of his left hand delicately trace his master’s family crest on the front of the metal collar, the same crest that had been burned onto his right wrist. Looking down, he smiled to himself catching sight of the puckered, raised skin. Though, as much as he admired the two visible brands on him, it was the mark of ownership, his master’s name tattooed on the inside of his thigh, that Taemin appreciated the most.


End file.
